


One Last Time

by violetlolitapop



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Human AU, M/M, an oc adopted daughter, they're an old couple totally in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetlolitapop/pseuds/violetlolitapop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching, both Alfred and Ivan reminisce over old high school photos and remember just how in love they really are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Time

He didn't intend to make such a mess, but like many of the things Alfred does, his best intentions have a way of getting out of hand.

"Alfred-?! Alfred, what is all this? What are you doing?"

Really, it's no surprise that Ivan looks onto the scene with more than just a bit of disbelief. It's not unbelievable that Alfred has managed to spread an ample amount of cardboard boxes from their attic and clutter up their hallway (even in his old age he has more than enough strength to do so), but it is quite a shock to see just how much they've collected over the years and that they've managed to store it all in such a small amount of space.

"I swear that attic is not big enough," Ivan mutters under his breath.

"I had Arthur cast an undetectable extension charm when we first moved in," Alfred says as he once again ascends the ladder leading into their attic.

Even in another room and high above he doesn't miss Ivan's dry scoff.

"Very funny."

"I thought it was a good one."

Alfred calls out a warning for his husband to look out below. He pushes another cardboard box down the exit, and isn't able to hold back his laugh as Ivan yelps when it hits the floor. Though there is the distinct sound of something shattering that has even Alfred cringe.

"I'm not even gonna lie," he says and begins to climb back down, "that's not even the first thing I've broken."

"I imagine not. I figured a lot more has been broken if that's the way you've treated all of this."

_All of this_ , as Ivan gestures with both arms spread wide, is a collection of too many boxes opened and rummaged through stacked right on top of one another, papers layered about, and a garbage bag half-filled with broken frames and random knick knacks.

Alfred has the sense to appear sheepish. He even rubs at the back of his neck, a habit he's never been able to break since their school days.

"To be fair, nothing that broke was all that important."

Ivan hums and decides to investigate the damage himself. Alfred bites at his lip, he can feel his heart speed up while Ivan looks though the bag because he just knows he's going to find-

"Is this my sister's wedding gift?!"

"Really? You can't remember the last time I took you out, but you remember your sister's wedding gift?"

"Don't bring up that argument again, I had already forgotten about it."

"Point!"

"And of course I'm going to remember this, how could anyone forget it?"

He's not wrong, and Alfred won't deny it either. Alfred will never be sure if Natalya's gift had been based on that they didn't bother to have an actual ceremony or had not bothered to tell anyone other than Lily when they filed for their license at the registry. There's also the possibility that her resentment stems from Alfred simply marrying her brother, she never did like him.

All the same, the ceramic gnome that now lays shattered in Ivan's hands is still as creepy and off putting as it was the day it was unwrapped. Maybe even more so, now there's a crack running along it's painted smile, making the grin appear longer and more terrifying. Coupled with the bulging half-shattered eye, Alfred really wishes Ivan would throw it back in the bag.

"Still frickin' creepy," he says under his breath.

"Well, yes, but my sister still gave it to us."

Ivan becomes more melancholy then, and Alfred can tell that he's doing his best to refrain from clutching the shards before he hurts himself. Perhaps it wasn't fair for Alfred to treat it so haphazardly. Him and Natalya may have disagreed on a lot of things, but she was Ivan's little sister, and he must miss her dearly.

"Hey," he calls out to him. "You wanna help me go through all this?"

The question snaps Ivan out of his stupor, just as Alfred wants. He puts the broken figurine to the side gently.

"What is it that you're doing?" he asks. "You know Tatiana is leaving Beatrix with us for the week, I don't think she will appreciate her daughter being near broken glass and other mess."

'"Tatiana's the reason I'm doing this," Alfred tells him and rips through the tape holding the box shut with his keys. "She called this morning and asked if we still had her elementary school yearbooks. Like hell if I know what she needs them for, but since we clearly never throw anything out, I told her I'd look for them."

"Did you think to look in her room?"

Alfred pauses.

"I did not."

"That's what I thought."

"Shut up."

Despite the practicality in abandoning his search through the current box, Alfred continues to rummage so as to hide his pink cheeks. He forgets his embarrassment, however, when he comes to notice that everything within this package is from their own days at school.

"Dear lord, Ivan, look it's all of our old school pictures and stuff."

"Let me see."

Ivan comes to kneel beside him and Alfred hands him an old class photo from his own school. He doesn't bother to hide his amusement as Ivan takes the photograph and proceeds to go through the age old ritual of squinting his eyes and moving it further back to better see.

"Hold on a second," he says and hands it back to Alfred. "Let me get my glasses. If I can make it to the bedroom that is."

Alfred makes no reply, but he does shake his head and mention how Ivan should just wear them at all times. Of course, Ivan only says that he needs them strictly for reading and computer work, but the sudden thump of his foot making contact with a stray box says otherwise and Alfred laughs. Which isn't taken lightly, Ivan throws some choice words at him before disappearing through the door leading into their bedroom.

As Ivan takes his time in retrieving his glasses, Alfred goes on ahead and begins to scan the items himself. The photo he currently looks at is a school photo of all the classes; and is actually not even his own school. The crimson and dark gold pinstriped blazers paired with dark grey slacks is the trademark look of Ivan's own boarding school, and Alfred goes through the rows of boys in search of him. He comes across a few familiar faces - Vash is at the bottom corner looking as stern as ever and Alfred chuckles at the memory of Gilbert warning him that his face will stay that way when he gets older, Roderich is right above him and Gilbert himself has an arm thrown around the other's shoulder.

Eventually he finds Ivan and cannot restrain the smile that blossoms. Alfred's not exactly sure which year this is from, but it must be one of his earlier years before they had met, Ivan's face is rounder and definitely plumper. He doesn't smile, in fact he looks a little sad almost and Alfred can't help but remember what his beloved husband had been going through at the time.

It must impact him more than he can imagine, because the moment Ivan reappears with his glasses on he says, "I love you."

Ivan is taken aback by surprise.

"I love you too," he says and settles down next to Alfred on the floor. "But what's brought that on?"

Alfred hands over the photo and asks, "What year is this?"

"Hm? It's not on the bottom-? Oh, this is from my first year at the Institute. First Years were always at the top for some reason, but the other three years were always whoever got there first, I never understood that."

"Probably because a lot of fourteen year olds are still kinda tiny. I know Matthew didn't start shooting up until he turned sixteen. Really gave me something to strive for."

"And you did marvelously."

"Oh, thank you darling."

"Any time."

Alfred's hand goes back into the box and pulls out a school portrait of just Ivan. He's older in this one, his neatly combed hair helps show off the cheekbones that have become more prominent even though he's still a bit chubby for someone his height, and he's even smiling a bit. It must be from his last year since it's clearly taken professionally.

"Now lookit this handsome devil," Alfred laughs.

"My father hated that smile," Ivan tells him. "He said that it ruined the integrity that should be portrayed."

"Well that's stupid. He's lucky I never decked him, had plenty of reasons to."

"What else is in here?" Ivan asks in order to turn the conversation away from his long-gone father.

He ends up pulling out another class photo, though this one has girls dressed in white collared shirts and pink knee length plaid skirts. They all looked uniformed, though from both of their experiences with the girls who had gone to this school (and Alfred attending the male counterpart), they both know that beyond this picture they are anything other.

"Where did we get this from?"

"Must have been one of your sisters."

"I don't see Katyusha, maybe from Natasha?"

"Maybe, but I don't see Nat here either."

"Oh, no, wait there's Katerina."

"Look, there's Eliza and Bella."

"Where is Lily?"

"I don't- Oh, there she is, she's near your sister."

"I remember when she confessed to having a crush on her."

"I remember that too! She got so embarrassed after finding out that Katy was your sister!"

"You didn't have to laugh as much as you did."

"I didn't laugh that much."

"Kiku heard you in his apartment."

"That isn't fair because you know those apartments were shit and we had no privacy. I don't know who was more embarrassed the nights after we had sex, you or him."

"Alfred..."

"Oh ho ho, a family portrait."

Alfred pulls out a small picture of Ivan dressed in his school uniform and Natalya dressed in hers. Katerina, already graduated, is dressed in a long skirt and blouse for her first day at University. The back of the picture simply reads:  _Katyusha, 19. Vanya, 17. Natasha, 14._

"My mother must have taken this one," says Ivan. "She always wrote our ages on the back."

Alfred does not reply. He only watches intently as Ivan's thumb runs against the image of Natalya scowling at the camera. It doesn't take much observation to see the way he gulps heavily, or the way his arms tremble lightly, or the way he blinks excessively to keep tears at bay.

"Ivan..."

Alfred reaches his hand over to take the photo out of Ivan's hands and grabs them both. He leans in close, presses their foreheads together, and they both remain quiet.

"I miss her," Ivan says.

"I know."

"She was too young."

"I know."

"It's not fair."

"It never is."

And it isn't. Natalya isn't the only one to have passed on at a young age, though hers had been the first funeral they attended. Or rather, they had to make due with watching from afar and were unable to attend the service before the burial as Ivan's father had still been alive at the time, and still would not tolerate his only son's presence since he had left home to stay by Alfred's side. It's a sacrifice that Alfred has never taken for granted, and he is thankful for each and every day they've spent together so much so that he begins to tear up along with his husband.

Tears begin to streak down Ivan's face, and Alfred wipes them away with the pad of his thumb. He's always hated to see him cry, from sixteen to near seventy, that much has not changed.

"Y'know one time, I thanked her," Alfred tells him. "And she asked me what for. And I told her for breaking into the cemetary so many times that eventually I met you when you came to pick her up. She gave me such a death glare and then said that she hated me even more now that I've made her hate herself."

Ivan laughs. "That.. yes, that does sound like her. I doubt she really hated herself though."

"Same, she probably just had a lot of regret for getting caught that night."

"I'll never understand why she did those things."

"Who knows?... You don't think she was really making zombies, do you?"

"Is that what she told you?" he laughs again. "No, Alfred, how would she even do that?"

"I don't know! I wouldn't put it past her though, I swear she was paranormal or something."

"You are far too paranoid and superstitious."

"You love me anyway."

"God knows why."

With the lightened mood, Alfred goes back to the box and brushes aside some of the more personal photos from group outings and field trips. He wants to see if he can find his own class photo and is pleased to see that the one he does come across is the one that has all of his friends present. His second year at World Academy, with all of them dressed in white collared shirts and blue plaid slacks. Photos like these are the only example of how their uniform is meant to be worn, with tie and blazer and sweater vest present. He remembers the first time Ivan visited his dorm and was terribly confused with the way everyone walked around with shirts untucked, unbuttoned even, ties missing, and only a handful of students bothering to wear dress shoes.

"Now lookit this gorgeous mug," he says and blatantly points to himself standing next to his brother. "Who could this blond Adonis be with such a perfect physique at such a young age?"

"I believe it is the same one that grew to be the owner of this pot belly here."

Alfred scowls as Ivan's hand pats at his stomach. It's true that as he grew older, Alfred has begun to slack on his exercise routine until it became non-existant. Naturally, with the amount of food and how he loves his hamburgers, he's put on more weight than any of their other friends.

"I blame you," he says. "You always make me eat everything on my plate."

"I make sure you eat your vegetables. I may have made you fat, but I wouldn't disagree to saying that you are still alive because of me."

Ivan says this in a playful manner, and Alfred has no doubt that it's meant to be treated like a joke, but still... Fat, even now he still can't shake it off. Ivan must sense his thoughts, he leans over and kisses him lightly on the cheek.

"I'm happy for it. Makes me feel less alone."

"Y'know, you've always looked chubby, but I swear you've never been. Not even now."

"Now that is not true."

"Yes it is."

Ivan's small exasperated sigh ends that conversation. Instead, he turns their attention to the photos now lying neatly on the floor.

"Look at how young everyone is," Ivan comments and Alfred hums in agreement.

With all three portraits side-by-side, and only a few of their friends missing from the picture, it's like looking into a portal into another dimension. Many good memories are locked within the years captured in these three frames, as well as many confused emotions, petty arguments, and rolling teen angst. Still, to be this age again, to have these friends alive and well again...

"Do you remember Antonio's funeral?"

Ivan's question comes unanticipated, though not wholly unexpected. Looking at the glowing faces of their youth only brings to light just how many of them are left still alive in the world. After Natalya's untimely demise, Antonio had been the next one to pass at only thirty-something and had fallen in front of millions during a match he had spoken non stop about to all of them on how important it would be to win for his career. He was so excited...

"How could anyone forget? Paparazzi in the distance, Francis and Gilbert needing to be held back from fighting with them. In the end everyone had to help keep them back because Lovino had gone from holding back Gilbert to actually punching a photographer."

"Eliza was also inconsolable."

"She was in the locker room when he passed. She wasn't able to talk about it, ever."

"The only time I heard her speak around that time was when she stood up with Francis and Gilbert when they gave the eulogy. Do you remember?"

"I do... What did she say though?"

"I don't really remember. Something about them all seeing each other again in the spring."

They grow quiet, too quiet for Alfred's liking. He doesn't want to sink into a position where he'll be able to recall terrible things like that. Instead, he makes it his mission to find what it was that had broken in the box. Better to take find it and take it out before one of them (or worse yet, Beatrix) hurts themselves. He has Ivan help, and it brushes off the despair that threatened to settle over them as they take their time looking over pictures and trinkets.

"I got this from Arthur when he graduated. Something about me needing something to remember him by. Loser, we literally hung out with each other the next day at Francis' pool party."

"I don't think Lily ever saw me, but I do remember her visiting often to see her brother. She would be the only girl on school grounds so of course, everyone knew when she was there."

"Matthew, I swear to God, lived in that library. If I didn't find him in his dorm, he was in the library. After awhile I didn't even bother searching for his room, I just went straight to the library."

"Katyusha one time told me that Bella and Eliza had set their kitchens on fire when they were hungry from sneaking out and tried to make something for themselves. Sometimes, I wish to have been in that school, it sounds more fun than my own."

"I always loved that we didn't have a strict dress code like yours. I hated buttoning that shirt, and I hated wearing that vest. And I hated dress shoes, still do actually.

"It would get so hot for so many of the boys near the summer, and to have to wear the blazer. I remember Gilbert was yelling at how weird I was for not breaking out into a sweat ever."

"So this one time, we decided to have a bonfire at this small little cove, and it's going great, we're having fun. But then this cop comes by and we split up. Me and Feliciano dive behind these huge rocks and we decide to wait it out, and it works because Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert decide to run straight across the beach and into some nearby trees. So it's this one cop going between all these trees and they're running in circles trying to get away from him! We had to laugh into our hands it was ridiculous."

"The one time I got Gilbert in trouble was because he had this brilliant idea to join cookie sheets together and use it as a sled to go down the four staircases that connected each other. There were no teachers around and I only learned of it as it was happening so I... jumped in front of him before he was able to start and the both of us broke the banister and that.. just flew out and hit the chandelier hanging below. The crash brought teachers and since he was the one with the sheets in hand, was the one to get in trouble. That's when he started hating me, but I think the school has a new wing donated from his family because of it."

Alfred is laughing and smiling throughout the tale. While Ivan recounts, it's his turn to search for the broken object, and luckily he does find it.

It turns out to be a photo of the the two of them decked out in atrocious 80's wear; a moment captured by Francis and had even been framed by him and given to Alfred as a sort of gag gift for his birthday only a month after.

"You have to remember this," Alfred mutters and picks the picture from beneath the broken glass.

Ivan takes it from him and he recognizes it instantaneously if the sudden blood of red embarrassment that floods his cheeks has anything to say about it.

"Oh my God..."

Alfred can't hold the laugh that spills from his lips as Ivan shoots up from his spot beside him. He's ready to leave with the intention to hide away but Alfred will have none of that. He stands along with him, grabs his arm and keeps him still.

"So you do remember."

"Alfred, please."

"It was at Francis' after-school-finally-summer-is-here-always-themed-party and you know, I wasn't going to go."

"Alfreeeed."

"Because I was still really bummed about you ignoring me every time I tried to contact you."

"Stop, please, stop."

"And wow, so glad I let Matthew drag me out of the house.  _'I'm not dealing with a depressed little brother all summer, we're going and you're gonna have fun.'_ , that's what he said to me."

"My face is on fire."

"And you were there! And I felt so stupid wearing 80's shit even though that was the theme, I wanted to look cool, but nope couldn't happen. But then you were still ignoring me and I had to keep chasing you all over the party until..."

"I want a divorce."

"Antonio came up to me, leaned and whispered a thank you because that was the summer him and Lovino started going out and I helped him out with that. Which is not something to brag about considering how that ended, but he was happy, so happy that he hugged me so tight that our cheeks smashed together and you saw that from across the pool and you yelled..."

Ivan's face is scrunched up so tight that Alfred is sure that he's doing nothing more than willing for his existence to finally disappear for good. He's as red as that one time they spent a whole day at the beach and he came back burnt, but still Alfred does not pull back the question.

"What did you yell, Ivan?"

"I'm serious about that divorce."

"Ivaaaaan?"

It's with the most expressive sigh and the slow movements that have his face return to normal (but his color still remains) that Ivan quietly says, " _You kissed me_."

" _You kissed me_ ," he repeats. "So loud that it stopped the music and everyone stared."

"And I ran," Ivan continues. "Through the kitchen, and into the bathroom, and locked myself in there. I hate you so much."

Alfred brings himself closer, presses his forehead to Ivan's. "I'm always so grateful that you spoke to me through that door."

"I thought you were making fun of me."

"I know, but I wasn't."

"I know that now! I'm glad I let you speak to me."

"I can't believe you thought I was going out with Tony."

"I saw you together! I heard you and... It really sounded like a date. And that was only a day after you kissed me that night, I thought you were playing a joke on me... Everyone else did, why wouldn't you have?"

"Because I really liked you and wanted you to be my boyfriend."

"Well, I didn't know that then. I do now, but... Oh, my face is still red."

"Yeah, it still is."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

He laughs as Ivan groans. His head falls to Alfred's shoulders, still too embarrassed at the scene he caused decades ago as the memory plays fresh in his mind and Alfred hugs him in comfort.

" _Whenever I'm alone, with you_ ," Alfred sings under his breath. " _You make me feel like I am home again._ "

"Stop it."

"It's our song."

"No, it's not."

"It's what was playing when we finally confessed all that love stuff and kissed again, it's our song."

"It's also the same one that those three ruined when they ambushed us with Gilbert's camera, it's not our song."

" _However far away, I will always love yoooouu_."

Alfred continues to sing despite Ivan's protests. Eventually though, as he begins to sway them to his singing among the scattered mementos of a life they've shared together, Ivan follows his lead. The red falls to nothing but a pink during their dance, he even smiles at every note Alfred fails to carry, and that leads to the both of them laughing. It's a laugh that they share before Ivan brings a wrinkled hand up to brush away at the greyed hair that falls in front of Alfred's glasses that now have thicker lenses.

So domestic, still even after all these years, and it has Alfred's heart swell with such joy. He can't hold back the chaste kiss he presses to Ivan's lips.

Such a cliché song, he hates how relevant it always was for them.

* * *

_"However far away, I will always love you."_

* * *

The sun beats down on them, though with the nice breeze that has left the sky cloudless, the temperature is fair. It's the kind of that day that Ivan liked best, and for that, Alfred is pleased. His husband only ever deserved the best.

He painstakingly arranged everything alone, though their daughter attempted several times to intervene, he always waved her away. No, he decided to do it alone.

Not that he actually pays attention to the fruits of his effort, even now, he barely registers the hands he shakes, the hugs he receives, and the words offered. He still sits in the provided metal chairs on the grassy hillside, hearing nothing but muffled sounds until a constant call finally snaps him out of his comatose sate.

"Dad!"

His snaps to his left, and beside him is their daughter Tatiana, dressed entirely from head to toe in black, and holding the hand of their five year-old grandaughter Beatrix dressed in a dark navy blue dress. Alfred feels his lips twitch upwards at the sight of grass stains on the knees of her white stockings.

"He hated black," Alfred says, not even sparing a glance at the navy color of his own suit. Instead, he turns to face forward again, seeing nothing but the polished dark wood before him. "I hate it too."

"Dad," she begins, and he can't see her but he can hear it in her voice. He can practically see the shine in her eyes. "It's time to go."

There's a stabbing in his chest, it has him struggle to take in a breath of air, and the prickle at his eyes come back.

"Is it?" he asks, and when he dares to look around, to take his eyes off the scene before him he finds that yes, everyone else has left. It's only him and his family left.

There's a tug at his elbow, and his attention is shifted to see the small mess of blonde hair hiding his granddaughters face. She has escaped her mother's hold, and now directs her own blue eyes to Alfred's.

"Grandpa," she begins. "Where is Doolya?"

_"Say dzye-doo-shka."_

_"Day-douche."_

_"Dzye-doo-shka."_

_"Day-douche."_

_"Ivan she's three, give her something easier."_

_"Fine... Beatrix, say dzye-dool-ya."_

_"That's not easier!"_

_"Doolyaaa!"_

_"Eh, good enough."_

_"At least she's not calling you a douche."_

Beatrix's face blurs as she takes on a questioning expression, and it's not until he feels the drops land on his hand that realizes he's crying. She isn't able to ask why, Tatiana picks her up and carries her on her hip.

"Dad?"

"I'm fine. I'll just... Go on ahead, I'll be right there."

Alfred removes his glasses, rubs away at his eyes and doesn't put them back on until he hears the crunching of footsteps walking away. When all is quiet, he places them back on and finally stands.

He approaches the casket still propped up, waiting for the grave diggers to finally lower it down and cover it up with soil and new grass. That's all who wait now, the two workers who loiter some yards away are growing impatient as Alfred lingers. They're not allowed to do their job until he's gone.

With trembling hands, Alfred places them both on top, runs them alongside and brushes his fingers against the smooth petals of the floral wreath placed on top.

He's crying again, but it can't be help.

The large lump in his throat keep him from speaking, it's hard to pass but eventually he's able to get out the words.

"Hey... Hey, Ivan," they're deep and throat and wavering with every syllable he's managed to say, "Hey, I'm... I'm gonna go now, but.. I love you. I love you and... I'll see you soon. I promise."

He removes his hands, doesn't bother to take his glasses off again, he only wipes away at his cheeks.

"In the spring," he says. "I'll see you again in the spring."

It takes every little bit of him to leave the casket's side, and even then, walking away and back to live out the rest of his life, he knows.

A piece of his heart is still with Ivan, and it's waiting for him to come back.


End file.
